I'd Rather Hide
by Passionworks
Summary: Ozula Week Prompt Two.  This party is like any other.  But it is only when Firelord Ozai kisses her –on her lips and down her neck –that the rumors buzz.  Rated for suggestive content.


**Author's Note: Here's prompt two! I was almost not going to do this one, but somehow I managed to think of something. Celebratory stuff isn't my forte, but I think TrueThinker REALLY wanted to see me do this one more than any of them combined, isn't that right, chica?**

**I used Dolores O'Riordan's lyrics to 'Tranquilizer' for both the implications of this entry and the title.**

Prompt Two: Party

_Come on, baby, let's get rowdy…_

I'd Rather Hide

By: Passionworks

…

"_I'm not prepared._

_I'm running scared._

_Tranquilizer._

_Tranquilizer._

_Tranquilizer_

_Just give me…_

_Desensitize her."_

_-Tranquilizer_

_(Dolores O'Riordan: from the 2009 album, 'No Baggage')_

Lighted chandeliers provide a blistering amount of light on the ballroom. The sparkling glass fixtures are as beautiful as sunshine, gleaming magnificently as the spectrum bounces off each jeweled segment.

But everyone knows that light is obtrusive and flashy, conspicuous and interfering. Without a doubt, it cares not of privacy. The often utilized metaphor is that light is like a scope, eying you from the top down, measuring your worth with a steely glare.

It is apparent that Azula hates the light now. She stands out like a focal point on an artist's portrait when it glows off her brilliant complexion. In a rose-colored dress with glittering gold lacings around her collar and breasts, she is drawn forth like a pop-up.

She is like a pop-up because she is the only woman there with such a stunning grace to her, even under pressure. And this demanding Firelord adores a woman of genuine grace.

Grace makes you available. Grace makes you obtainable. Grace makes you a prize to be won.

Oh, and the males sure did vie for this prize. As he ponders it, the list goes on and on: soldiers, men of nobility, even a particular admiral who is, _thankfully,_ out of the picture now.

None of them had the will, the determination to claim this honor.

So, as the Firelord rakes over his seasoned daughter with roving eyes –like a _scope,_ no less –he readies himself to take her in. To steal her under the sunlight rather than the clouds of night.

…

Ozai's suit –a robe of flowing crimson with satin weave trimmings –is far more than revealing upon a first curious glance. His muscular abdomen protrudes from underneath the material, undoubtedly giving him a rather fit appearance. The scarlet color hugs his shoulders like a lover does as he extends his hand and elegantly steals a glass of cherry wine from a busboy's tray. With an alluring grin, he offers it to his daughter, who gestures her decline with a flick of the wrist.

"I plan to stay sober tonight, Father," she says in, more or less, a whisper. "You tend to take advantage of me when I'm intoxicated."

"Come now, Azula, you're eighteen today," he informs her (as if she isn't already aware). "This ball is in _your_ honor. Live it up while you can." He takes a sip from his own goblet, feeling the drink kiss his tingling lips.

"Oh, I plan to, but I would much rather do so while remaining abstemious. I at least should make it a point of honor to maintain my dignity this year." She examines her perfectly polished nails. They are painted as red as the lipstick that brings out the fullness of her lips.

"But cherry wine is your favorite," he pleads, setting Azula's glass in front of her face, silently begging her to take it from his hands.

"I already refused the damn drink, Father. Leave the matter be."

"But you always have a drink with dinner. Why should this day be any different?" he asks, giving her a questionable look. "Come on, all these royals here are drinking. Do you not think that _they _hold dignity?"

Azula sighs, and concedes, relieving her assertive father of the wineglass. She stares at the swirling liquid with defeated eyes.

"Drink it, Azula."

As she swallows, Azula can just sense it burning on her tongue –the taste is like a flame escaping her gullet, smoldering her insides.

Ozai simply smiles as he calls another busboy over. He curls a snake-like arm around Azula's waist and whispers seductively, "See? Now, have another."

So, when the busboy bows and lifts his gold tray up for the princess, she immediately grabs a second glass. Just as Daddy ordered.

…

Azula's mind is a tangle of broken thoughts and phrases and images. Her tongue rolls as she slurs something sexy into Ozai's waiting ear. Her honey-sweet eyes crisscross as she imagines his delighted face as the two of them dance across the ballroom floor.

An array of instruments are playing harmoniously in the background, and even with an unlevel head, the princess swears that she totally feels one with the music.

Maybe that is because her father's firm hand is guiding her through the moves.

"You are dancing marvelously this evening, my dear," Ozai tenderly compliments, beaming deviously.

"Oh, but I am so very dizzy," Azula clumsily answers with a quirky, drunken laugh as her father twirls her round and round.

A new, slow song plays now. A few other couples enter the floor and dance alongside the royal pair, and it is not long before all of them notice the Firelord's stray hand teasing the tender flesh of Azula's slender, exposed thigh.

But it is only when Firelord Ozai kisses her –on her lips and down her neck –that the rumors buzz.

…

"Did you see how awkwardly they stared at me?" Azula irately asks her father once the two of them are settled in the bed they share. "Why would you do that to me? Kiss me right in front of all those snobbish nobles!"

"Oh, Azula, don't be so absurd," the Firelord coddles, his arms encasing his daughter in an affectionate hug. "Pay them no mind."

"Father," she questions in response, twisting herself from Ozai's embrace, "why should I abide by your advice? I just knew you'd take advantage of me tonight."

"Calm yourself," Ozai replies. He sends a delicate hand through Azula's river of raven hair. "Listen. This was only a party. A one-time thing…"


End file.
